


Flames of a Lion

by Clicker



Series: A Song of Gold [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Dragons, House Lannister, House Stark, Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23714182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clicker/pseuds/Clicker
Summary: Two years after you were appointed Queen of the Six Kingdoms, King's Landing had mostly recovered, rebuilt and repopulated, but a new threat from across the narrow sea threatens what you have built in the south, and what Sansa has built in The North(Sequel to Little Lion and The Lion's Pride)
Relationships: Jon Snow/Reader
Series: A Song of Gold [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705960
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Y/n I

He was perfect in every way possible. His soft pale skin with rosy cheeks. His dark wavy hair that was always an uncontrollable mess because of the awkward length it had reached in the past two months. 

You loved him, there was no other way to say it. Since you’d given birth to him all you wanted to do was hold him. He was currently your youngest, and your only son. 

Jon loved him too. It was the first birth he was there for, and the first child he’d held as soon as they were born. Jon had taken him first, because his sister had been born thirty minutes before, and insisted on eating, so while you were pushing, you were breastfeeding a newborn. 

You’d named him, and Jon had named his twin. Jaime and Lyanna. Tyrion had titled them the black cubs of King’s Landing, for both having your eyes, but Jon’s hair. And for Lyanna looking like you, while Jaime looked like your father. 

You went everywhere holding him. He was your first son, and it was a nice change in pace compared to the constant of daughters. Lucia who constantly messed with Ser Tommen, and Cersei and Myrcella who had no sense of personal space even though you and Jon had tried to tell them early on. Even Lucia had a sense of it at their age. 

You knew Jon felt deprived of holding Jaime, so while Lyannna slept, you had handed him over to his father, who instantly smiled down at his son. 

“We make cute babes.” Jon commented, leaning against the headboard of your shared bed with him in his arms. 

While there were two different chambers for the two of you, neither one of you slept in separate rooms like kings and queens had throughout the history of the seven kingdoms. You were the first royal couple to constantly share a bed without it always being about the sex behind it. 

Even though there was always the option for Jon to go to his own room when you got later into your last pregnancy, when you kept tossing and turning to find the perfect position, which was usually odd, he still stayed, suggesting that you lay on your side where you would be most comfortable.

He stayed even when you hogged the blankets, and even when the newborns began to cry from their cots across the room. 

Your mother had been left alone with you and your siblings most of the time when you were a newborn. Robert had avoided her whenever she had fallen pregnant, and mostly avoided you and your siblings after your births. Jon never left your side. 

Most husbands would wait outside the birthing room, or even across the castle. But Jon had fought against a handmaiden who kept telling him it wasn’t his place, and you were too out of it to tell her to stop, so Jon had shoved past her and come to your side while you were in labour. He helped you every step of the way through the thirty four hours you were trying to give birth to the newest twins. Samwell had just been awkwardly standing there, not knowing what to do. 

You didn’t blame him. You were the one who had decided to get on your knees on the bed and hold onto Jon’s torso with your head on his chest while he encouraged you. There wasn’t much room for a maester in the matter. So he was just telling you that you needed to keep pushing, as if you didn’t already know that. 

And the moment you’d had Lyanna, you collapsed onto your side with her in your arms. You wouldn’t let Samwell near you. Which was strange, since the maester at Casterly Rock had been able to help with Cersei and Myrcella. And you didn’t particularly care that time around. But now you cared, and the only person you wanted was Jon. 

So Sam had to instruct Jon on what to do while Miza had come in to help hold up your leg. 

That was how Jaime was born, with you crying from the long hours of pushing and being scared that Pycelle had been right about your ability to have surviving children while holding Lyanna who ate in silence, and with Jon and Samwell arguing because Jon didn’t know what to do, before Jaime’s head had crowned and you were crying out. And barely a few minutes later, Jaime was in Jon’s hands, his cord still attached and covered in guck. Jon hadn’t even hesitated to pull his son close and wrap a blanket around him upon hearing him cry. And the moment that Jon heard his son’s cries, he began crying as well. From how overwhelming it had been, and because he was holding your child fresh out of the womb after the longest delivery you’d ever gone through. 

“We do.” you responded, pulling clothing out of your wardrobe, finding a green dress to wear. “But I think you mean, I do.” 

Jon scoffed a bit at your comment. “You may carry them, but I put them there.” He gestured to your abdominal region. 

“Ah yes, because when you put the broth there you were intending to make soup.” You gested, laying the gown on the bed before going to Jon’s wardrobe and pulling his clothing for the day out as well. 

Jon remained quiet until you turned around. “You’ll never know.” He gave a small, slow shrug with a feigned thoughtful expression on his face. 

“I think I do. Because I do remember the night they were conceived.” You laid his clothes down on top of your own, finding pairs of shoes for the two of you to wear for the day. 

“And which night was that?” He asked swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing with Jaime in his arms. 

You wanted to flat out say it, tell him the day and setting. Because you had an instinct the moment the two of you had finished, that something would come of it. And a long nine months later, it did. On the anniversary of the burning of King’s Landing. You wanted to embarrass him even though there was truly nothing to be embarrassed of. Years ago, you both would have been. Unmarried, and young the night Lucia had been conceived, but you opted against it. 

“The night after our wedding.” You said, raising your brows to hint at it. And after a second of him looking at you confused he nodded a bit, knowing what you meant. 

“No, I was not intending to make soup.” 

You laughed and covered your mouth, looking at him as he looked down at Jaime. “You made a cute soup.” You laughed harder at him, shaking your head and going to get your corset and stockings. 

“Soups. Five of them!” You corrected with a smile walking back over to the bed and placing your things on the mattress before taking Jaime from Jon and taking him to his shared cot with Lyanna who was still peacefully sleeping. 

Jon smiled at you while you wrapped the corset around your torso, beginning to lace it up before he took the laces from your hands and began to lace it up for you, the way he usually did, before he tied it off and tucked the laces between your chest and the stiff piece of your attire. 

* * *

“Lucia!” You yelled after her as she turned a corner of the castle, and as you picked up your skirts and began to run after her, you heard the heavy sound of feet behind you, and when you turned around you saw a young woman, dressed in red, with a necklace much like Melisandre’s around her neck, but without the stone. 

The moment she saw your face, she stopped and stared at you in horror. “Your Grace,” She greeted with a courtesy, before staring up at you. 

“I don’t know you? I know everybody in this castle?” You said, a clear look of confusion on your face. You had made it your goal to learn everybody’s name in the castle. After all, if Tyrion had been able to sneak Shae into the castle to be Sansa’s handmaiden all those years ago, then there could have been others. And you were determined to prevent that.

She gave a slow nod. “You don’t know me.” She confirmed. “I was trying to find you, Your Grace. I need your help.” She confessed. 

You rose a brow in curiosity. “Do you have any weapons on you?” 

She shook her head. You made a motion with your hand, telling her to turn. She was wearing a tight fitting gown, there was no way she could be hiding it anywhere else on her person, and the slim fitting gown would give it away. She obliged. Before facing you again. “My name is Zia of Sarnor. My mother was taken prisoner by a Westerosi man from her home in Sarnor, and another man in Dorne rescued her. They married, and moved to the outskirts of this city. They had me, and my sister, who was taken to Volantis, and raised in the Temple of Light, to be a red priestess.-”

“I didn’t ask for you to speak, especially not in these corridors, they echo.-”

_ “Never make whispers of slander or truth in corridors, they echo and everyone will know what you know, and your secrets.” _

You knew what she said well. You’d said it, when you were younger, when Syelse asked if you liked to whisper with Miza in the halls. You peered down the hall to see Lucia staring back at you both, head tilted a bit. 

“Go on.” You decided. 

“She’s a priestess now. And when I went to visit her, to try and bring her back, I found out something that could bring your kingdom down in ruins, again.”

“Is that so?”

“The priests, and priestesses, are all working on one thing. None of them are in the streets preaching, they’re all in the temple.” You began to walk away, down the hall to Lucia who came back to you. “Your Grace! Please! I Beseech you to please listen!” 

You stopped only when you were a foot from Lucia. You grabbed her hand and looked back at Zia. 

“They read the flames. They all believe in something that is wrong. My sister told me the true interpretation of the sight they saw, Your Grace, it involves you, and your children, and your husband.” 


	2. Y/n II

The throne room only had your counsel in it, as well as the Queensguard, and Lucia who was being led out by Ser Podrick, who had sworn his shield to protect the princesses, and however many other girls you would give birth to. He swore himself to protect them just as Ser Tommen had sworn to be the shield for the prince, and any other princes who would be born. 

The woman, dressed in red stood in front of you all, no ladies or lords, or nobility even allowed in the hall outside of the throne room. She’d convinced you that something in Volantis was happening. And the last time you’d spoken to Sandor Clegane in Winterfell, he’d said he saw the flames, the mountain shaped like an arrowhead. The same mountain you’d all come across beyond the wall. 

The woman had a name, but you found yourself forgetting it as she began to speak once Lucia had been escorted to Miza who then led her out and after Podrick had stood guard at the door. 

“They’re attempting something that is very dangerous-”

“Yes, you’ve said that multiple times. And you’d said differently everytime.” Tyrion pointed out, standing besides the throne, his hands behind his back. 

“Lord Tyrion. With all due respect, I am not speaking to the imp of Casterly Rock, but rather the Queen-’ She said.

“Stop.” You demanded. “Either you respect all of us, or we could have this conversation through the bars of a cell door for you breaking into the castle, and chasing my daughter down the hall like she was a rat and you were trying to scare her off.”

Her confident stature suddenly fell a little bit as she gave a timid nod. “Your Grace, The prophecy about the prince who was promised, he was not Rheagar, or Stannis, or Rheagar’s infant son Aegon.” You shot Jon a quick glance before looking back to the woman. “I have reasons to believe that the wood witch who had once told King Jaehaerys the second that the prince would come from their line was wrong. My sister and I. We saw… what looked like your banner. But different. It was a golden lion on a red field, with golden roses surrounding the Lion’s paws. Two grey wolves on either side of the lion, and antlers from behind the lion’s head. And wings on the ground.”

You looked down to the Silver that had been melted down from your mother’s crown and put into two coin sized holes in the arms of the throne, before they had been stamped and cooled with exactly what she had described. And you were easily able to dislodge it and fiddle with it when meeting with the common folk, or even nobility. You looked at her pulling out the right coin and standing from the throne, stepping down the two steps before walking to her and holding up your coin. 

“Like this?” 

Her face lit up a bit at the sight. “Yes. That’s exactly right.” She said. “I saw that on banners, with three women speaking in a tent. One was you.” She looked at Brienne, who’s face shifted a bit at the sudden second of attention. “I only saw her. I didn’t see the others. My sister said she did… I believe the prince is from your line, not the Targaryen. But that’s the problem, no one in the temple believes us. For the past two years they’ve worked, on a curse of sorts. And it is an awful curse, that will affect thousands of people.” 

“How so?” You asked. You’d never once used that banner. You only ever used the usual Lannister banner that Loren the Last had carried into battle against Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters in the Field of Fire. 

“They’re trying to bring people alive from the dead. But not as Wights. Or White Walkers. As People. As Melisandre once brought your husbands back, but… their bodies mere moments before their deaths.”

“I’m not following.” You responded quickly, now grasping the coin as tightly as you could. 

“Your Grace,” She grabbed your wrists firmly, catching your full attention. “They’re doing this to bring back Daenerys Targaryen. And the men she lost. And they can whisper in their ears the moment they wake-”

“Bran.” You pulled away, looking to the younger male who sat in his wheelchair, looking at you with his normally blank face. “I need you to see what is happening in Volantis, in that Temple, we need to know, and we need to know where Drogon is, we cannot have this city being burned to the ground again-”

“And animals.” She added. You turned your head, your feet facing Bran but your face turning towards her. “If they succeed in this, animals will be brought back as well. Dragons. All in the places that they were laid to rest. You’re all in grave danger. I needed to tell you all this, and believe me, the moment that they succeed, you will know. You’ll have this pit in your stomach, before it happens. I have to go back. I will message you, and inform you of their progress every week. Lord Brandon is said to have spies all over the world, I’m sure he’ll be able to vouch for me once I get there.”

You looked to Bran and he nodded, while everyone else just stared. “Tyrion. You’re my Hand. I need you to do your- thing”

Tyrion looked terrified, and it scared a bit at how he was scared, but you were able to keep a straight face. 

“How many people. Do you know who?” Tyrion finally said, stepping down and coming down next to you. 

“Many. People you have known will come back. I do not know how far back this will go, or when this will happen, But I can guarantee you, it will. With every priest and priestess in that temple every day all day, they’ll get it eventually.”

* * *

“I need a letter sent to Queen Sansa, We must inform her. With all the lives lost at Winterfell during the long night, we need to make sure that she is safe, espesially with how many were of Daenerys’ men-” 

“Y/n-”

“And we need to send troops, they still haven’t fully rebuilt their army, and if Viserion does come back from that he could pose a good fight, we need archers sent-”

“Y/n, please-”

“I need to go, I lost men as well they'll be confused-”

“Y/n!” Jon grabbed your arm, making you stop from marching down the hall like you had been. He was worried as he pulled you back to him. “Y/n, you can’t go. You have six kingdoms to run, and two newborns to feed every three hours… I’ll go. I’ll take Lucia, and a few good soldiers with me. We’ll take a ship to White Harbor. It’s the quickest way there. Then we’ll ride to Winterfell, and inform Sansa of what we’ve been informed of.”

“Jon, she’s my sister-”

“And she’s mine. I grew up with her, She’s my problem.” Jon said with a small smile to lighten your suddenly stressed mood. “I’ll go. Lucia misses her, and she’s been writing to me, nagging me to visit her and bring Luci along with me. So, It’ll be political and familial.”

“It’s not political, Jon. This is survival. Take the girls. I’ll keep Lyanna and Jaime here. Cersei and Myrcella were weaned off earlier than intended, when I got pregnant again. Take them. It’s the safest place if she does come back. She’ll come for me first.” 

Jon sighed and he pulled you into a hug. “You’ll be alright.” He whispered. “Nothing ever ends with us does it?” He questioned. 

“Never. You should have known that when you married a Lannister. No grudge ever goes away. Which is why it was always strange to me as to why the Starks and Lannister didn’t even get along before the wars.” 


End file.
